I left Madrid in the evening heading for Bilbao where I wanted to spend the night before finally driving to Santander to catch the ferry back home to England.

I reached Bilbao in the evening spending the night at a not so cozy hostel at the outskirts of the city. There were lots of mosquitoes and the place looked and felt as sterile as a prison. I parked the bike a few streets away a little concerned if it was still going to be there the next day.

But it was and in the morning I continued to Santander. I boarded the ferry and enjoyed the view from the various decks of the ship before falling asleep in my cheap cattle class seat.

The next day the white cliffs of the coast of England announced our arrival.

I disembarked the ferry…

… greeted as it should be by the congested traffic of London’s roads. At least I didn’t have to worry about driving on the wrong side.

After almost two months my journey through the south western tip of Europe had come to an end. With considerably less tread on my tires, many thousands miles more on the odometer, huge numbers of captured images on my hard drives and an infinite amount of wonderful new memories I parked the bike in front of my flat already wondering where my next trip would lead me to.